(by any other) name
by ShadowsTakeAll
Summary: "Because," she says, holding up the list and pointing to the jumble of letters, "I want a whole lifetime to mock you for this."


**Okay. This is my _actual_ Surprise Friday fic. It wasn't even the one I was intending on uploading because I have a Scallison AU and an angsty Scira one-shot that I want to publish soon, but they shall have to wait for another week.**

**This is based on the promo for 4x09. And since it's me, I feel obligated to give you a warning: this is a humorous story. That's right. No character deaths, no mortal danger (not really, anyway), not even angst really. Just lots of Stydia doing what they do best: mocking each other and bickering over silly things. I wanted to get it out before the next episode, hence why I'm bumping it up in the roster. I watched the promo and something occurred to me and I just thought it would be really amusing if... well, you'll see. ;)**

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"You have _got _to be kidding me."

The exclamation is followed by a thud, a sigh, and, a moment later, by an irate five-foot-three strawberry blonde banshee marching into Stiles' room brandishing a piece of paper and a scowl.

"Got anything?" Stiles asks, glancing up from his Econ homework.

For the past hour Lydia's been sitting in the hall, trying to use her banshee powers to solve the riddle of the Benefactor and the deadpool and the assassins that seem to literally lurk around every corner.

Her scowl deepens. "Does this _look _like I have anything?"

Stiles' concerned smile slips into a grimace as he realizes just how agitated she is. "Okay," he says soothingly, shuffling over on the bed to make room for her. She sits down on the bed beside him, crumpling the paper up in her hand. "Show me what you came up with."

"I came up with _nothing_," she grumbles, scrunching the paper up into a ball and looking like she's going to toss it on the floor.

"Just let me see," Stiles urges, and she reluctantly hands it over. Stiles smooths it out and scans the page while Lydia keeps ranting about the unpredictable and inefficient nature of her powers.

" – and then I started writing, and I thought I was finally getting somewhere, but it's not a name or even a word, or any kind of code I can recognize. It's just gibberish."

With a frustrated sigh she flops back onto the bed, glaring at the ceiling. Silence stretches on for a long time, and eventually Lydia shifts her gaze so that she's looking up at Stiles. He's still examining the page, but it's not with idle curiosity anymore. It's with absolute horror.

"Stiles?" Lydia asks in alarm, sitting up straight and placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. He doesn't answer, doesn't even react to her touch, and Lydia feels her heart skip a beat. "Stiles? Are you okay?"

He mumbles something, so softly she can't make out the words.

"What?" she says, just loud enough for him to hear, even though she's not entirely sure she wants him to repeat it.

"It's a name," he repeats, his words barely a whisper. His face is pale and his eyes are slightly distant, and Lydia finds herself wishing that just once she could be the bearer of good news, or even just news that isn't _I found another dead body _or _You're going to die soon._

"Are you sure?" she asks, taking the piece of paper back and looking at the jumble of letters. "Stiles, this doesn't look like a name. It doesn't even look like a word -"

"It's a name," he says firmly.

Lydia frowns, and then it hits her so suddenly that the paper flutters from her hands. "Stiles," she says quietly. "Stiles Stilinski."

He's staring at his hands now, like he's still holding the piece of paper – the deadpool with his name personally added by a banshee.

"I see why you go by Stiles now," she says, and she knows the situation is terrible and Stiles is probably going to die but she actually feels like she's about to laugh. In all the time she's known him, he's never even hinted at what his real name is. For the longest time Lydia thought his real name _was _Stiles (and was faintly relieved when she found out that it wasn't). Now she almost wishes it was.

Stiles shoots her an irritated look. "Stop laughing."

"I'm not," she says earnestly, but her wide smile does nothing to sell her point.

"This is serious," Stiles presses. "You're a banshee and you just wrote my name on a deadpool. Shouldn't that take precedence over the ridiculousness that is my name?"

"It does," she says quickly, still trying not to laugh. She's so used to being the last to be in the loop (except where dead bodies are concerned, and she's never been too thrilled about that), so it feels strange to know something nobody else knows. (Well, Scott probably knows, but he's the alpha and it doesn't count.)

"Good." Stiles is still glaring at her, clearly not finding anything about this situation remotely amusing. "So can we get back to the matter of me potentially being a target for a bunch of professional assassins? Which, by the way, makes _no _sense since I'm not even supernatural -"

"It's okay," Lydia interrupts, still torn between laughter and concern. "Come on, let's just go talk to Scott. He'll know what to do."

Reluctantly Stiles follows her out of the room and down the hall, mumbling the whole time about how unfair it is that he ended up on the deadpool and didn't even get any of the perks of actually being supernatural. He may as well have accepted the bite from Peter that time, since then at least he might be able to defend himself against the people who apparently want to kill him.

As they get into Stiles' old jeep, Lydia gives him a smile that's genuinely reassuring. "You know Scott won't let anything happen to you, right?" She hesitates, and then reaches for his hand. "And neither will I. We're not going to let you die, Stiles."

He exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a moment as if resigning himself to what's to come. "I know," he says at last. He still seems scared, but he's holding it together, which is the most anyone in his situation can be expected to do.

Their sentimental moment lasts for almost a minute before Lydia starts giggling again, and Stiles rolls his eyes. "What now?" he asks.

"Now that I know your real name, I'm definitely not going to let you die," Lydia says as Stiles starts up the car and starts down the street.

"Mm? Why's that?" he asks, wondering if there's any possible way he could somehow push her from the car without it actually hurting her. Surely writing his name on the deadpool means her job is done for the day? Surely he would be forgiven for not wanting to spend an entire car trip being told how hilarious his name is?

"Because," she says, holding up the deadpool list and pointing to the jumble of letters that's apparently his name, "I want a whole lifetime to mock you for this."

He groans, trying to snatch the paper from her, but she holds it out of his reach. "C'mon, Lydia, give it back."

"Nope," she says happily, scanning it again. "What kind of a name is this, anyway?"

"_Lydia_."

"I mean, how do you even pronounce it? I don't even recognize some of these letters -"

"Cut it out, Lyds."

"Maybe someone else in the pack will know how to pronounce it. I'll have to show them and ask -"

They come to a stop outside Scott's house and Stiles makes a show of banging his head in frustration against the steering wheel. "I really hate you," he mumbles, resting his forehead against the steering wheel and giving her a sideways look.

"No you don't," Lydia says, springing lightly from the car and leading the way up to the house. "Relax, Stilinski," she says as he trails her up to the house, still muttering curses. "Your secret's safe with me."

Stiles knocks on the door, now doing his best to ignore her.

"I'm serious, Stiles," she says, and he's so convinced by the sincerity in her tone that he turns to look at her. The wicked grin on her face doesn't match her soothing voice at all. "Or should I say -"

"Scott!" Stiles exclaims as the door opens, and Lydia shuts her mouth. "My god, am I glad to see you."

The alpha looks confused as Stiles and Lydia make their way uninvited into his house, but he knows better than to ask. While Stiles explains the situation to Scott, Lydia holds the deadpool against her chest and holds a smile in her heart, because as soon as they save Stiles' life, she's going to spend the rest of it teasing him about this.

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**Don't forget to review, send me a prompt, check out my other stories, feed a homeless kitten... you know, the usual.**


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